


street cinema

by vamprnt



Category: The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton
Genre: Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Late Night Conversations, Late Night Writing, M/M, Multi, kinda angst kinda fluff kinda corny kinda everything, yeah i wrote all of this between 1-6AM every night there will be mistakes.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:22:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23737540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vamprnt/pseuds/vamprnt
Summary: Steve and Johnny have a lot more in common than they think.
Relationships: Johnny Cade & Steve Randle, Johnny Cade/Dallas Winston, Sodapop Curtis/Steve Randle
Comments: 9
Kudos: 92





	street cinema

**Author's Note:**

> well look at me making a second outsiders fic. yeah, it’s a long one... i wrote this cause like there’s nothing that touches on steve and johnny’s relationship (not much on steve in general) so out came this. just wanna say rn there is no romance between steve and johnny (they still have big fat crushes on soda and dally respectively) they’re just bros helping each other :)))) enjoy!

street cinema

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


Steve’s thirteen and has nowhere to go.

It’s eleven o’clock at night, or twelve, maybe even close to one. Shit, he doesn’t carry a watch, all he knows is that it’s _late_ and _dark_ and by the way his eyes are stinging, it’s cold too. They said the wind can make your eyes all watery and stuff. Yeah, that’s why. A gust of wind rattles through his bones, so he stuffs his hands in his pockets. At this moment, Steve is beginning to question his love for sleeveless jackets. His old man hates those things, but Steve loves ‘em.

Looking around, he tries to analyze his options for survival. He’s heard about how Buck Merrill lets anyone stay over at his place — except those anyones have to be eighteen or older, and Steve doesn’t exactly pass as eighteen. Maybe he can say he’s just a midget; no, no. There was also Sodapop’s house, his parents wouldn’t mind and his best friend sure as hell wouldn’t. But Steve doesn’t like burdening Soda with his problems, being related to Ponyboy Curtis is probably bad enough for him.

When the rough scent of smoke fills his nose, he stops to see where the source is coming from and looks to his right. That place is familiar, it’s the lot where him and his friends like to play sports and fuck around. Of course Steve could survive there, there were a bunch of abandoned cars there you could sit or sleep on and even better — free hubcaps!

Before Steve walks any further, he sees a dark figure on one of the car hoods. Guess this idea wasn’t as original as he thought. He felt his pockets for his switchblade but only got leg and now he’s cursing himself for walking out the house so damn quickly, usually he’s smarter than that.

Steve takes one very cautious step, but the very moment his feet crunches the grass, the figure snaps its head towards him. Fuck. His first night out and he might get mugged or killed or something, just his luck. Before Steve can even think of what to do next, the figure speaks.

“Hey, whoever’s there, I don’t want any trouble, man.”

Wait a damn second, that voice sounded familiar. Steve took another step forward.

“Johnny?”

“Steve?”

Steve jogged over to where the figure was standing and there it was — a tan, dark haired twelve year old boy smoking a cancer stick. That was none other than Johnny Cade.

Johnny looked up at him, doing a simple nod. “Hey.”

Steve smiled in relief, jumping on the car and immediately locking Johnny in a noogie. “Johnathan Cade, what in the hell are you doing out here?”

“Hey, hey, take it easy, Steve!” Johnny laughed, breaking free from Steve’s grip and taking a drag of his stick. “I just like to be out here sometimes.” He pulls out a carton of Marlboros. “Want one?”

Steve immediately takes it. It’s almost like Johnny was some sort of mindreader, like that phony psychic in the downtown area. Johnny pulls out a lighter, igniting Steve’s stick then stuffing it back in his pocket. They just sat there for a minute until Steve looked over at Johnny. Johnny was a bit darker skinned than most people Steve knew, but he could still make out the younger boy’s features under the stars and moonlight, and Steve didn’t like what he saw.

“What the fuck happened?”

“Hm?”

“Your face.” Steve gestures towards Johnny’s right eye, which looked black and swollen.

“Oh. Socs.”

Steve couldn’t help the scowl that twisted his face. Goddamn did he hate those snobby ass white trash rich kids, always bothering them for no reason. “Do you know who they are?”

Johnny shrugged. “I dunno. It was some random guy. Don’t worry, I got him real good though.” Johnny grinned, holding out his fist.

Steve matches the grin, patting Johnny on the back. Even though he was a quiet kid, Johnny did know how to put up a good fight, like the time a soc tried to shove him at the playground and Johnny shoved his face in the dirt.

Johnny looks over at Steve. “What you doin’ here?”

Steve’s quiet but he eventually says, “Old man kicked me out.”

Weird, out of nowhere Steve felt himself starting to shake, and this time he couldn’t even bother blaming the cold. It was all starting to hit him — the argument, the way his dad said “Get out.” real scary-like and how the door was shut when he looked back. He wanted to laugh then, this knee-slapping, bellyaching laugh and ask if the old man’s serious cause no way in hell he could. But just thinking about the _look_ in those deep, black, menacing eyes in the moonlight made Steve shudder and remember — Frank Randle is the most serious person on planet Earth . Ah, fuck. There goes that stinging again.

His thoughts are thankfully interrupted when he feels a hand on his back. Johnny’s hand.

“Hey, it’ll be fine, Steve.”

_But it’s not fine._ “I mean I usually say ‘I’m leavin’!’ but he actually let me leave this time, Johnny. And I just went.” Steve drew in a shaky breath. “Damn, I’m stupid, huh?”

“You ain’t stupid, Steve. You one of the smartest guys I know. Just don’t sweat it, okay? Y’all just need to blow off steam then he’ll let you back tomorrow. And the cycle’ll continue.” Johnny takes one long drag before crushing out his stick and turning away from Steve.

Steve felt himself steady a little bit. Johnny always was pretty good with words. He looked up at the stars, thinking about what the younger boy said, especially that part about the cycle continuing.

“Hey Johnny—“

_Snore._ He’s asleep.

Well, Steve decides for now it’s best he does the same.

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


Johnny was right. Steve’s dad did let him back in.

Except neither of them actually apologized. Steve woke up in the morning and somehow felt even more tired than before. It’s not like the hood of a car was much different than his mattress at home but glory did this thing make him stiff.

Johnny was already gone and it kind of freaked Steve out. Last night still felt surreal. He actually got kicked out and for some odd reason Johnny was just… there. It was like one of those weird dreams someone gets and a friend makes a cameo and you just gotta tell them what happened and what they were doing. But since Johnny wasn’t there, Steve just shook his head and decided to head back in the direction of his house.

His old man was there, sitting at the dining table with a cancer stick in his mouth, newspaper in the right hand, Bud Light in the left watching the news. When his old man saw him, he stood up and they just stared at each other.

Steve opens his mouth to speak, but closes it when his old man starts fishing through his pockets and pulls out ten bucks. “Here, son.” He said.

Steve took the money slowly, stuffing it in his pocket. His eyes never left his old man. They both looked equally nervous. “Uh. Thanks, pop.”

“Yeah.” His old man averts his eyes and it’s clear he just wants to look at anything except Steve. He walks back to his recliner and goes back to his comics and newcast about commie protests as if nothing even happened.

_That’s it?_ Steve thinks. He could feel his lips twisting into a snarl. That couldn’t be it. Hell, that’s not how it went on Leave it to Beaver. Isn’t there supposed to be a hug or pat on the back or some type of life lesson or something? Just ten fucking bucks? Whatever, it could’ve gone worse. Steve’s just glad this whole thing is over.

Except it’s not over.

They get mad. They argue. Steve’s on the streets again, not even a week later. He didn’t even feel bad too, now he was just irritated.

Steve finds himself at the lot again and there goes Johnny in the same spot, same jean jacket, same cancer stick probably. This was just like last week, that strange feeling was dulling an ache in Steve’s head cause it seemed _too_ much of a coincidence for both of them to be out here on the same nights.

“Hey, Steve.” Johnny greets. He pulls out his Marlboros. “Want one?”

Steve shook his head, pulling out his own stack. “Nah.” He was prepared this time.

After lighting his stick up and taking a few drags, Steve looks over at Johnny. Johnny’s still got that black eye, although Steve could’ve swore it was on the right eye and not the left. “Hey, Johnny. How come you out here again? Ain’t your folks worried about ya?”

Johnny doesn’t look at Steve, seemingly too fixed on the stars. Steve knows he ain’t a looker, but geez the stars couldn’t be that damn interesting. Johnny takes a real long drag, like really long, and finally looks over at Steve.

“My old man.”

“Huh?”

“My old man.” Johnny repeats. “He kicks me out too sometimes.” His head spins around quickly back to the stars as if the conversation was over, but Steve was far from finished with this.

“Wait, so you guys got problems too?”

“Mhm.” Johnny turns to face Steve again and Steve could see those dark eyes and dark face shining clear as day in the moonlight. “But you gotta promise not to tell anyone, Steve. Not even the guys.”

“Why?”

“Just promise me, man.” Johnny’s eyes seemed to get darker with each word.

“Okay, okay, I promise.” Steve held up his hands in surrender. “But why you don’t wanna tell nobody?”

Johnny shrugged. “I just don’t like people worryin’ about me.”

Classic Johnny being all selfless and shit. Steve didn’t understand him sometimes, they didn’t have much in common after all. Johnny was just _so_ nice and Steve… well he wasn’t exactly Saint Joseph himself. Maybe his thoughts are a little too clear on his face because Johnny grins.

“Come on, man, did you tell any of the other guys about you gettin’ the boot?”

Steve nodded. “No.”

“Exactly.” Johnny turns back to the stars crushing out his stick and tossing it on the ground, but Steve’s still staring at him.

“So… when you told me all that stuff about my old man letting me back in the house you was speakin’ from experience?”

“Yep.”

“And that stuff about the cycle continuin’,” Steve stopped for a second, feeling a chill creep down his spine. “It’s true?”

“Mhm. My old man’s been kicking me out since I was ten.”

Steve went silent. Not many things can shock him but that did. Ten? _Ten?_ Was that even legal, to kick out a ten year old? His friends usually don’t care about the law but Jesus fucking Christ. A laugh pierces through his thoughts. Johnny’s laughing…. why is he laughing? Ain’t shit sound funny to Steve. Johnny nudges him playfully.

“Steve, it ain’t that serious. Relax.” Johnny says, so Steve does exactly that. Relax.

When a gust of wind blows through his face and greasy swirls, he shakes then looks over at Johnny who’s shivering something real bad.

“Hey, Johnny. It’s pretty cold out here, you think we could make a fire?”

“Go for it.”

Steve places his stick in between his lips and hops off the car to search for any wood. In just seconds he’s already found a big pile of them over by the woodland area that was closer to some abandoned convenience store and now there’s a big orange fire blazing in front of his eyes, lighting up the area. That one year him and Soda were in Cub Scouts did him good.

Steve stands in front of the fire for a minute, feeling proud of his handiwork, then hops back on the hood of the car.

“Hey, Johnny—“

_Snore._ Asleep again.

Ah, whatever. At least they got somewhere tonight. He guesses him and Johnny do have more in common than he thinks.

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


Johnny was right again. The cycle did continue.

Steve and his old man get mad. They argue. Steve’s on the street again. He comes back home the next day. He gets ten bucks. Repeat cycle.

It’s like this for a year. Sometimes Steve isn’t even kicked out, he voluntarily leaves because he was just that fucking tired that sometimes he didn’t even wanna be in the same country as that old, miserable bastard. Canada didn’t sound too bad after all. It happened on school nights too, so Steve would bring his backpack. Not that he cared that much about education or anything but they backpacks were required and he was starting to get real sick of these awkward morning make-ups. Like Andy and Opie gone wrong.

What was truly starting to bother Steve was how every time, — _every single fucking time_ — he went to the lot, Johnny would be there. Same spot. Same jacket. Same cancer stick. Same bruises. Same Johnny.

Of course, Johnny himself isn’t what bothers Steve, it’s just the coincidence. He doesn’t like coincidences. Everything happens for a reason. Johnny’s old man couldn’t have kicked him out that much, Johnny’s one of the nicest guys he’s ever met, even more than Sodapop. Yeah, he likes mischief here and there, but Steve’s damn sure Johnny ain’t some delinquent like him and the rest of the gang.

Also, why is it every time Steve sees Johnny at the lot, there’s always some type of bruise on the kid. A black eye. A scratch. A mark. It’s always something printed on him and it gives Steve the creeps. Johnny always says it’s “socs”, but even Steve knows the socs aren’t that damn pathetic of instigators. Hell, Johnny wasn’t an instigator either so something is up.

Steve has his suspicions and one night he decides to test the waters.

They’re sitting on the hood of the car, smoking, looking at the fire in front of them. Steve considers himself a straightforward person, so he goes right in. “Hey, Johnny, so what’s the issue between you and your old man?”

“Actually, it’s both of my folks.” Johnny began. “They consider me a burden.”

“Aw, come on, how do you know that?”

“Cause. They tell me all the time, ‘You’re such a burden on our lives, Johnny!’”

Steve snorts. “You? A burden? You’re one of the most easiest people I know. Everyone loves ya.”

Now it’s Johnny who’s snorting, shaking his head. “They don’t think so.” Steve stays quiet, so he continues. “I think it got somethin’ to do with them havin’ me real young. I’m thirteen, dad’s 29, mom’s 27. You do the math.”

Steve did do the math. “Oh.”

“Yeah.” Johnny said. “Probably mad at me cause I ruined their dreams and stuff. Neither of ‘em went to college.”

Steve stared intently at Johnny, wondering how he said all of this so coolly, so casually, as if this was supposed to be something normal. Still, just thinking about it all made him twist into his trademark scowl. “So? It shouldn’t be on you. That’s their faults for being dumbasses and making that mistake.” It takes a second for Steve to realize what he just said. “Oh shit! I don’t mean you, Johnny! You ain’t a mistake or anything like that, I’m just sayin’—“

“It’s okay, Steve. I know what you were sayin’.” Johnny takes a drag from his stick before turning to Steve. “So, what’s the problem with you and your old man?”

_Shit._ Steve definitely should’ve expected this, but he’s not prepared and he’s quiet. Johnny has the patience of the saint ‘cause Steve feels like he hasn’t said a syllable in over ten minutes, but he decides it’s only fair he tells Johnny his problems since Johnny spilled about his own.

“I just,” Steve stops, trying not to get all shaky and act like some crazy, emotional chick. “I just think he blames me for mom walkin’ out on us. Like when she left and I asked him if it was my fault he said it’s better not to ask some questions.”

Johnny remained silent, so Steve went on. “And he’s always raggin’ on every little thing I do. I’m best friends with Soda, but he doesn’t like him, but everyone likes Soda, right?”

“Mhm.”

“And I start wearing jackets without sleeves and greasin’ my hair and he says I look like one of those queers. Or when I started likin’ cars, he said it was stupid.”

“It ain’t stupid.”

“Thanks, Johnnycake.” Steve smiles. Glory, it felt like a weight was lifted off his chest. Like he could breathe just a little bit more, even with all the smoke around them. It ain’t like his old man would magically turn into World’s Greatest Dad and all his issues would go away, but it just felt _nice_ to get it out to someone, especially someone who understands good like Johnny.

Johnny took a long drag from his cancer stick then crushed it out, flicking it on the ground. “You know, somethin’, Steve? I never really got you. Like I’ve always liked you and you’re my friend, but I never really got you. But, uh, now I’m starting to.” He turns to his side.

Steve furrows his eyebrows in confusion, turning to the younger male. “Hold on, what’re you tryin’—“

_Snore._

God-fucking-damn it, of course.

Steve just lays his head back against the old car’s window, looking up at the stars and thinking about what Johnny said.

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


Steve’s fifteen and knows exactly where he’s going.

It’s raining that night. Hard. Like completely pouring down, but he doesn’t care. He just keeps running and blinking his eyes.

Steve truly thought everything was okay, at least for his standards. Him and his old man started fighting less, but five months went down the drain so fast in one second. Just thinking about it makes him run even faster, feet pounding and splashing against the flooding ground and the lump in his throat seemingly getting heavier.

Through an irritated, blurry vision he vaguely sees the lot and the rusty old red car he’s become so accustomed to. Without missing a beat he sprints there, jumping over a pile of abandoned tires and yanks the door open and jumps in. The smell of smoke tells him everything he needs to know.

“Steve?”

“Give me a stick.”

“Is—“

“I said _give me a stick._ ” Steve gritted through his teeth.

Instead of fishing through pockets, Johnny just stares and gives him the stick that he was already smoking. Steve doesn’t care, he’ll take anything. He snatches it and takes a long drag, hoping that maybe nicotine could at least calm him down, but it was useless. His breath was shaky, his hands were shaky, his whole body seemed to be a trembling mess.

“Steve?” Johnny eyed him. “You good, man?”

Steve nodded, taking another drag then coughing. “No. Nah, man. I’m sick of that bastard. I’m sick of him.”

“I thought you said it was going good between you and your old man?”

Steve combed his free through his wet, greasy hair, grabbing a fistful and laughing. “That’s what I thought too.” He looked away from Johnny, watching the raindrops trickle down the window. “He was still a douche, but I thought maybe he finally started looking at me like I was a man, y’know? To respect me and act like I was his son.”

That’s when he can tell Johnny notices the bright red mark on his cheek. “Don’t… don’t tell me he–“

“He hit me, Johnny. He hit me.”

Johnny stayed quiet.

“We… we was doin’ just fine. I was gonna go to sleep then he started going off about how Soda’s ‘dumb’ or about Two being a bad influence and you and Darry and even the kid and I just… I just went off and socked me in the jaw.” Steve took another long, shaky drag from his cancer stick, making sure to get every last bit of smoke.

“It’s okay, man.”

“It’s not.” Steve’s voice cracked. “I mean I wouldn’t care if it was from some dumbass Soc in a fight, but that’s different, y’know? This type of shit ain’t supposed to happen with father and son. It’s ain’t right. It just ain’t right.” Fuck. Steve just can’t hold it in anymore. He can’t. The tears just start streaming down his face and he honest to god doesn’t think they’ll stop.

“Fucking Jesus,” he manages to croak inbetween sobs. “I’m such a wuss. I should’ve fought back but I just ran. Ran like a damn coward.”

“You ain’t a coward, Steve.” Johnny’s voice was real soft. “You did good. Fighting back could’ve made things worse.”

“They’re already worse!” Steve didn’t mean to yell, but he realizes it when he sees Johnny flinch back, so he wiped his eyes and attempted to regain posture. “I’m sorry, Johnny, I just think I hate that man.”

“Nah, you don’t mean that.”

“Yeah, I do.” Steve shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He’s calmed down now, but there’s still a dull ache in his chest and head. He looks over at Johnny, who’s went from touching his shoulder to soothing his back. “You know you’re the second person I ever cried to?”

“Let me guess, after Soda?”

“Yep.”

“You know you’re the second person I ever cried to?”

“Let me guess, after Dally?”

“Yeah, man.” Johnny grinned, which made Steve grin. “Steve, I think you just needa get some sleep for now.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “I don’t think sleep is fixin’ this one.”

“It won’t.” Johnny interjected. “But I’m sure your dad feels sorry. He’s gonna wake up and regret it. Just don’t give up, okay?”

“Okay.”

Johnny gave a look of satisfaction then leaned back in the car seat. “You know, Steve, we got a whole lot more in common than I thought.”

Steve’s eyebrows raised. “What does that—“

_Snore._

At this point, Steve can only blame himself for that. He turns over and looks out at the window. Even though he was calmed down, the events of the night still left him too nervous to sleep, so he just went into deep thought.

What did Johnny mean by that…

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


Steve found out exactly what Johnny meant.

A few weeks pass until he finds out. And he’s pissed.

Eleven o’clock strikes on the clock and he’s already out the door, speed walking to the lot he’s become so familiar with. Funny thing is he didn’t even get into it tonight with his old man. By ten-thirty he was already passed out drunk in his recliner with a rerun of Bewitched playing on the television screen, snoring loud as hell like the lazy, annoying beast he is.

For a second Steve thinks about smoking a stick. Usually, he ain’t much of a weed fiend unlike Ponyboy, but today he already cleared out three packs and not one single stick actually calmed his nerves. When he reaches that familiar orange blaze, rusty red car, and scent of smoke, his body tenses even more.

“Hey, Johnny.”

“Hey, Steve.” Johnny’s eyes stay on the fire, even when fishing in his pockets for his pack of Marlboros. “Want one?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“Suit yourself.” Johnny says, stuffing them back in his pants.

Steve doesn’t miss a beat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Huh?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Steve repeats.

“Come on, Steve. I don’t wanna—“

“ _No._ I wanna know how come you didn’t tell me your folks were beating on you?”

Johnny flinches then shrugs. “I told you before, I don’t like anyone worryin’ about me.”

_“Johnny, come the fuck on!”_ Steve didn’t mean to yell, but Christ he was always bad at keeping his temper in control. “I mean I’ve bawling my eyes out like a fuckin’ pansy to you about my old man and you were gettin’ beat on this whole time!”

Johnny smashes the weed he’s holding on the car. _“I’m sorry, okay?”_

Steve almost flinches. He’s never heard Johnny be that loud, but his body still feels rigid and on edge, like at any moment he would explode. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me? I thought we were buddies.”

“We are, Steve.” Johnny’s voice sounded desperate. “I… I didn’t mean to tell anyone, okay? Dally was supposed to take me to the races last night but he walked in on my dad… y’know…” His hands go up to his mouth, but he realizes he doesn’t have his stick anymore and puts it down in defeat. “I pleaded with him, Steve. I did, I kept tryna tell him to not spill, but he still did.”

That only boiled Steve’s blood even more. “That fucking no-good felon I should kick his damn teeth in.” He growled, not even caring that he’s threatening _the_ Dallas Winston. Shit, he hopes Johnny doesn’t tell Dally.

“Who are you mad at?”

Steve rubbed his forehead, furrowing his eyebrows. “Dally? … You? … shit, I don’t know, some-fucking-one!”

“Steve, I don’t see why you’re so mad, I fight back!”

“You told me fighting back makes things worse!”

“And look where that got me.”

Steve dropped his hands in defeat, lazily hoisting himself up on the car hood and burying his face in his hands. “Johnny.” he groaned. “This shit ain’t right, man.”

By the creak of the car he can tell Johnny’s sitting down next to him. “I know it ain’t.”

Steve’s quiet for a moment before rubbing his face and looking up at Johnny. “I thought the whole point of this was that we talk about our shitty parents.”

“It is!”

“Then why ain’t you bein’ straight with me, huh?”

Johnny makes this weird face. “I don’t see you tellin’ Soda or any of the guys about what your old man does.”

“That’s different!” Steve interjects. “I can’t talk about that type of stuff with Soda!”

“So then you understand me!”

“No, I don’t understand why you ain’t bein’ straight with me!” Johnny goes quiet and looks at his worn-out shoes, kicking his feet. Steve sighs and does the same. “I don’t wanna do this alone, Johnny.”

“Me neither.” Johnny mutters, still not meeting eye contact.

“So then what’s the problem?”

“I just don’t wanna tell anyone, okay?” Johnny’s head snaps up. “It’s embarassin’ and I don’t want the gang treating me like I’m some lil’ puppy that can’t defend himself. Everyone already looks at me as the ‘Nice One’.”

Steve half-laughs, nudging Johnny. “You are the nice one.”

Johnny shrugs and nudges back. “Yeah, yeah. But it just feels weird, ya know? I get you guys care about me and I know we’ve just been spilling our guts out to each other, but you’re the first guy I even told about havin’ problems with my old man. Ya dig?”

“I dig.” Steve says. “I’m sorry for snappin’ on ya like that earlier.”

“It’s fine, Steve.”

“I just feel like shit. I mean I’ve been complaining about my old man but you got it worse. Like real bad.”

“Ain’t nothin’ better or worse about us, man.” Johnny says. “We got parents that don’t give a crud about us, it is what it is.”

Steve looks away, nodding. For the first time this whole day, he feels himself smile. An actual smile. It’s like all that worryin’ for hours left his body and hopefully the useless cancer sticks he sucked up won’t kill him. But either way, leave it to Johnny to make him feel better about something like this. Steve looked over at the tan boy. “Hey, Johnnycake, maybe you should get some rest.”

Johnny stares at him something funny then hops off the car. “The night is still young, Steve!” His smile is beaming and Steve feels proud. “We can’t go to sleep now, let’s do something!”

Steve stared at him for a second then stood up and did a backflip off the car, earning a supportive _“Yeah!”_ from Johnny. “Let’s go!”

So, they ran off into the Tulsa night looking for whatever trouble awaits them, laughing and smiling as time slips by. For now, Steve thinks everything will be okay.

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


Steve started going to the lot more. It was almost a nightly thing. Not ‘cause of his old man, though. In fact, Steve thinks they’ve been fighting less because he gets the fuck out before any nasty words can be said or any nasty punches can be thrown. That doesn’t stop it from happening though, and it doesn’t change at all how Steve views his old man, but just to be on the optimistic side he’s just grateful everything was slowing down.

Johnny was always there too. Same car, same fire, same jean jacket, same cigarette, same ol’ Johnnycake. Steve started seeing less marks on Johnny’s skin and that made him happy as hell cause one, Johnny’s not getting beat up and two, Johnny’s there to see him, which made Steve feel good. Besides Soda, not too many folks check up on him anyways.

They started talking less and less about their folks and started talking about normal shit. Just little everyday shit they’d chat crap about with the gang. Sometimes alcohol was involved and it gave some weird conversations.

“Hey, Johnny.” Steve’s speech was slurred.

Johnny looked up hazily. “Yeah?”

“You ever… you ever _burp_ think about… kissin’ Soda?”

“I don’t usually think about doin’ that type of stuff with a beverage, man.”

“No, I mean our friend, Sodapop… like you ever thought of just walkin’ up to him and givin’ him this big kiss like how them soldiers did when they came back from World War, uh, three, I think? Y’know like if he was some girl...”

“Nah, man, I don’t really think about that.” Johnny said, barely able to sit up. “You like him like that?”

Steve’s face flushed a bright pink. He’s drunk but goddamn he couldn’t be _that_ drunk. “No, uh, it was just a weird dream.”

“Aw, come on, Steve. I don’t care.”

“Really?”

“Nah.” Johnny took a swig of the Jack Daniel’s in his hand. “‘Sides, I kinda, uh, dig Dally a bit.”

“Dally?” Steve chortled. “Guy looks like a scary vampire elf thing from Hell.”

“Imma tell Dal you said that.”

Now Steve was the one sloppily sitting up on the car hood. “Wait, wait, I was just kiddin’!” He could never be too drunk to talk smack about Dallas Winston. Cause either way it’ll get back to Dally and Dally’ll get back to you with a fist.

Johnny laughed. “Kiddin’ man!”

“Don’t do that, it ain’t funny.” Steve whined. He looked down for a second then looked up at Johnny, who was chugging down his whiskey like a champ. “So why Dally, huh?”

“What? Mad it ain’t you?” Johnny lifted an eyebrow and smirked which earned an earnest laugh from Steve.

“Shut up, Johnnycake, I’m serious.”

“Well,” Johnny began. “I dunno, it’s just I kinda like how complicated he is.”

“How, he’s an asshole who gets around?”

“That’s just the thing, I kinda get it. He comes from a real bad place and he’s real mad at the world, but I can tell he still got some good in him. He’s always checkin’ up on those Shepard kids and he started checkin’ up on me more when he found out I was gettin’ beat on.”

“Damn.” Steve said.

“Yeah.” Johnny chuckled. “He’s kinda like you.”

“So why you don’t like me, huh? Is it cause I don’t look like the Hobbit?”

Johnny shoved him. “Stop it, Steve. It ain’t that. It’s just I can’t connect with Dal on his shit, y’know? Like me and you are so similar, I feel like we’re brothers, ya dig?”

Steve took a swig of his whiskey then nodded. “I dig.”

“So, what about Soda? Why you like him?”

Steve was quiet for a second then burped, clearing his chest. “I dunno, he was just kinda the first person to give a damn about me. I was always feelin’ like shit until he came around. He just always made me feel better about anything.” He took another swig. “And damn is he pretty for a boy. I swear, Johnny, if he was a broad I would’ve tried to pick him up so fast.”

“Cool.” Johnny nodded.

“Yeah, cool.” repeated Steve. “Hey, you not gonna tell anyone about this, right? Imma still marry a girl and all of that, I’m not no faggot or anything.”

Johnny twists his face in offense. “Steve, you think I was born yesterday? Of course I ain’t gonna tell. But y’know if you’re a fag, I don’t care. I think I am too.”

“You don’t think it’s wrong?”

Johnny shook his head. “Can’t control who you like.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you can’t control like Dracula Winston.”

“Shut up, Steve.”

“Alright, Johnny.” Steve set his bottle down beside the car, looking up at the stars in the sky. No wonder Johnny was always looking up here. It looked amazing. “Hey, Johnnycake.”

“Hm?”

“You think the guys’ll care that we’re… y’know…”

“I dunno, man.” Steve wasn’t looking at Johnny but he could sense the frown in his voice.

“I just don’t want Soda hatin’ me.”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“Well, anything’s possible in this life.”

Johnny snorted. “If only we actually had that type of thinking. Startin’ to sound like Pony there.”

Steve chuckled, ignoring the fact that he was basically insulted. It was true though. “Yeah.” He sighed. “Think Dal would ever hate ya?”

“Don’t know.” Johnny said. “Hell, I don’t know if anyone of ‘em will hate us, but even if they do, we got each other, right?”

“Right.” Steve said. He continued looking at the stars for awhile then looked over at Johnny.

He didn’t need anything else to tell him that Johnny was already asleep by then. Christ, that kid’s a fast sleeper.

Steve turned to his side, looking over at the trees in the far distance and going off into thought.

Johnny truly is a great friend to have.

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


One night. It was one night. Steve remembers that night.

He decided to leave his car at the shop and walk home with Soda and Pony. He didn’t see Johnny that day — but he did see Johnny’s jacket.

That same jean jacket that Steve has gotten so familiar with over the years. Johnny wore it everywhere so it wasn’t just recognizable to Steve, everyone knew whose it was. He picked up and slung it over his shoulder, thankful that Johnny’s folks were most likely still working and not home.

But then there was a stain on the road. A rust colored stain. Then a stain on the grass. Then another stain on the grass. Then another. Then another. Until Steve’s eyes finally met a figure.

It didn’t exactly take a rocket scientist to figure out who it was.

Steve remembers it too well. The blood. The gashes. The scratches. The black eye. He remembers how helpless Johnny sounded when crying. Steve already dropped to his knees at this point, but he sunk even lower when he realized:

That was the first time he saw Johnny cry. Ever.

That night, everyone was at the Curtis house. Nobody went home. Steve had his back against the wall on the floor because Johnny was resting on the couch all patched up, Soda, Pony, and Darry slept in their usual rooms, and Dally called shots on the recliner. Two-Bit was using his legs as pillows, and Steve would’ve pushed him off on any other night except this one. There was just too much to think about.

Steve never saw Johnny cry. Johnny didn’t cry. Hell, he never saw Johnny cry when talking about his old man beating him up. He never cried even as a little kid. He was the nicest one out of the gang but even then he never cried. Johnny Cade just doesn’t do that, no…

When the picture of Johnny crying earlier comes into Steve’s mind, that’s when he gets up. He just can’t sit here any longer or he’ll go nuts. He yanked his legs from under Two-Bit’s head, causing a loud thud sound. Hopefully the lack of brain didn’t break his skull.

Two-Bit woke up, groaning quietly while rubbing the back of his head and slowly turning towards Steve. “What the hell, Steve?”

“I gotta get up. I need some air.” Steve whispered.

“Alrighty, but when you come back—“

“Fine. I’ll let you sleep on my legs, Two.”

Two-Bit let out a small grin then turned to the wall. Steve rolled his eyes. Glory, he was about as childish as Ponyboy.

Steve tip-toed his way over to the front door, slowly twisting the knob then opening the door so that nobody would wake up. He wanted Johnny to get all the sleep he needed. That, and if you woke up Dally while sleeping he’d absolutely slam the shit out of you.

After successfully closing the door and waking no one up, Steve felt his shoulders drop.

“Steve?”

Steve jumped. “Shit!” He looked over and there was Johnny laying against the wall.

“Johnny, shit, man, you can’t be scaring me like that!”

“Sorry.”

The events of today came back and Steve’s expression softened. “It’s okay.”

It was quiet for a second until Johnny pulled out a pack of Marlboros. “Want one?”

“Yeah, wait, no. Johnny, you don’t need to be smokin’ that stuff right now.”

Johnny’s face scrunched, but he didn’t say anything and just stuffed them back in his pocket.

Steve could only stare. He shuffled awkwardly on his feet until finally saying, “So, uh. Today, huh?”

Johnny froze but nodded. “Yeah.” He said quietly.

“Are you, uh, are you feelin’ any better?”

“Kinda.” Johnny replied. “Everything still hurts a bit.”

“Okay.”

More beats of silence passed. Steve faced towards the street, trying to look at the night sky since there wasn’t much else in the neighborhood to look at, but he kept looking at Johnny. Something changed. Steve could tell. The more he looked at Johnny, the more emotion that was beginning to rise in his throat — anger towards the socs, pity for Johnny, guilt for himself.

“Shit, Johnny, I’m sorry!” Steve blurted out.

Johnny jumped and stared at him with these big, black puppy dog eyes. Shit, it almost killed Steve.

“For what?”

“I… I dunno, man. I should’ve been there at the field. I wanted to go home earlier, but Soda and the kid wanted to stay and finish his shift and—“

“Steve, shut up, man.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“I said shut up.” Johnny repeated, his voice tight and restrained. “It ain’t your fault okay, don’t make me feel even worse.”

“But Johnny I should’ve been there to protect you man.”

“See!” Johnny stood up abruptly, turning towards Steve. “That’s the shit I’m talking about man. You don’t need to protect me. I’m sixteen, I can handle myself.”

“But I’ve never seen you cry like that…”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Johnny raised his hands then put them back down when he realized how much pain he’s still in. “I’m already being treated like a lil’ kid, don’t do that to me, Steve. Don’t.”

Steve stared at his eyes. They were big and glossy. There was pleading in those eyes. There was desperation.

Steve looked away for a minute, flicking his nose and stuffing his hands in his pocket. “I’m sorry.” He mumbled. “I just feel fuckin’ awful, Johnnycake. First, your folks and now this. I should kill those damn bastards.”

“Hey, no killin’.” Johnny said softly, putting a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be fine, okay? I’m still kinda shaken up but… I’ll be okay. You look out for you and I’ll look out for myself.”

“Then that wouldn’t make us a gang.”

“You’re right, but just don’t be down my neck all the time, okay? I’ll just start carrying around a blade like everyone else. There’s one in my room. Dally had gave me it.”

Steve felt a ghost of a smile on his lips. “Alright, Johnnycake.” He made eye contact with Johnny, fully smiling. “Alright.”

Johnny returned the smile. Steve felt okay for the first time in a few hours.

“So,” Steve sighed. “You still wanna go to the lot?”

“Of course.” Johnny’s face lit up.

“Alright, I’ll carry you there, kiddo.”

“Steve!”

“Joking, just joking, Christ!”

Before they headed off the porch, the door creaked open.

“Hey, Steve!” Two-Bit called out. “You said you’d come back and let me use your legs.”

“Two-Bit, go back to sleep.”

“But—“

“Go to sleep.”

Two-Bit sighed in defeat, pouting. “Fine.”

When the door closes, Steve and Johnny look at each other and burst into a fit of laughter.

“I think you guys need to be more worried about him.” Johnny said.

“You’re damn right, now let’s go.” Steve said, gently patting Johnny’s back.

So the two walked off the porch and into the night, both of them feeling better.

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


Four months passed since the incident. The gang chooses not to talk about it, but that doesn’t stop them from treating Johnny like a walking accident waiting to happn. Steve can’t lie, he does it sometimes too, but in all honesty the image of Johnny all bloodied and crying still gives him the absolute creeps, how could you not wanna help?

Even though he was going to the lot on a nightly basis before, he absolutely makes sure to go and bring his switchblade. Him and his old man still fought, verbally and physically, and tonight was one of those nights.

Steve was walking to the car until he heard a yell.

“Stop! Who is it?”

Steve frowned. It was Johnny’s voice. Ever since that night, Johnny was more jumpier than ever. And quieter too. He was better around the gang but it still killed Steve.

“Johnnycake, relax. It’s me.”

“Who’s ‘me’?”

“Okay, now you’re just fuckin’ with me.” Steve said, walking up and jumping on the hood of the car.

Johnny’s body seemed to relax. “Just gotta make sure, y’know?”

“Johnny, when you’re with Steven ‘You Can’t Handle the Randle’ Randle, nothin’ in the world could hurt ya.” Steve grinned, flexing his muscles.

“I thought Lucas was your middle name.”

“And I think smartass is yours. You brought any Jack Daniel’s or what?”

Johnny nodded. “Nah, my folks were still awake so I couldn’t get any.”

“Got any weeds?”

“Yeah.” Johnny reached into his pocket, pulling out those same damn Marlboros and handing one to Steve. He took one good look at Steve’s bright red mark on his face and didn’t miss a beat. “You and the old man fightin’ again?”

Steve groaned and felt his eyes go dark. “Yeah, he got drunk and started gettin’ mad at me for no fuckin’ reason.” He took a drag from his stick. “It’s fuckin’ ridiculous.”

“Sorry, man.” Johnny said. “You know Soda’s birthday is comin’ up in a month. You got him anythin’ yet?”

Steve was both grateful and mortified over the change of topic. “Glory, Johnny, it’s in a month. It ain’t like I’m marryin’ him.”

“Yeah, well, do you got any ideas?”

Steve thought for a second then shook his head, looking down. “No. I thought about gettin’ him a football.”

Johnny snorted. “A football?”

“He likes football!” Steve retorted. “You got any ideas, Mr. I-Don’t-Got-A-Job?”

“Hey, he ain’t my best friend.” Johnny said, smirking.

Steve was forever grateful Johnny still ain’t lose that wit of his.

“Hold on.” Johnny stopped. “I got an idea. Get him a horse. He loves those things and used to go riding, didn’t he?”

Steve thought it was a good idea except one thing: “I ain’t got no money for that.” He said dryly. “Besides, Darry don’t like him gettin’ on them anymore ever since he tore that ligament.” Steve took another drag from his cancer stick. “Christ, Johnny, I ain’t go no money to do shit.”

“It ain’t gotta be expensive, Soda’ll appreciate it anyway.”

“I know, but I think I already gave him everything the dollar store got to offer.”

That made Johnny laugh. “So you’re stumped?”

“Abso-damn-lutely.” Steve confirmed. “I mean he’s my best friend and I love him and he deserves somethin’ good for turning seventeen. Hell, he deserves somethin’ just for puttin’ up with that kid for so long.”

Johnny turned to him, frowning. “You know Steve, you oughta leave Pony alone sometimes.”

“Johnny, I don’t not like the kid, I just think he’s annoyin’, always taggin’ along with me and Soda.” Steve said.

“So your mad cause he’s cockblockin’ you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny!” Steve laughed, punching Johnny in the arm, although Johnny was too busy laughing his damn self to even notice it. “I’m serious, the kid is ungrateful and sheltered. I mean, he had two parents who loved him, brothers who love him, and friends who love him and all he does is whine and complain. I worry about him.”

“Aw, Steve, he just turned fourteen, give him a break.”

“Don’t act like he ain’t at least somewhat annoying.”

“I mean…” Johnny trailed off, looking at the sky. “You’re right, he can be annoyin’ sometimes, but he ain’t that bad. ‘Sides, he’s always tellin’ me how he still likes you and stuff.”

Steve rolled his eyes, smirking. “Shit, I’m me, so I don’t blame him.” He took another drag. “But seriously, Johnnycake, that kid doesn’t understand shit no matter how booksmart he is. You can’t always depend on your older friends and brothers to get you outta something. I don’t see you complainin’.”

Johnny kicked Steve’s foot with his own.

“What the hell was that for?”

“Man, what did I tell you about comparin’ situations and shit? Ain’t nobody better or worse.”

“He definitely got it better.”

_Kick._

“Shit! Okay!” Steve cursed then looked at Johnny, who was still lost in the sky. “Speakin’ of situations, what about you and your folks?”

Johnny’s face went dark for a moment. “Kinda better I guess. Ma got laid off but they just been fightin’ with each other instead of me.” He laughed weakly. “Funny, ain’t it?”

Steve wasn’t sure how to respond, so he just hummed.

Johnny continued. “Y’know, Steve, I don’t hate my folks.”

Steve sat up so fast he got dizzy. “The fuck do you mean?”

Johnny sat up with him. “I mean I don’t hate ‘em. I just pity ‘em.”

“Nah, I hate my old man. Can’t stand that bastard.” Steve grumbled, taking another long drag from his stick.

“I dig that. I dig that. I just pity them all cause I think they’re mad at the world just like we are.”

“You ain’t mad, Johnny. You’re too nice for all of that.”

Johnny shot him a look.

“Okay, okay,” Steve said. “Sorry, you’re mad, but ain’t they the reasons we’re mad?”

“Yeah, they are.” Johnny said. “Stuff happened to them that made them mad, like my parents’ dreams ending and your mom walkin’ out on your dad, so they’re mad at everyone including us.”

Steve furrowed his eyebrows. “So, what? When we have kids we’re suppose to be assholes too? I mean Christ, Johnny, ain’t no way in hell do I wanna end up like any of them.”

“That’s the thing, man, I wanna break the chain before it continues.” Johnny crushes out his stick and tossed it on the ground.

Steve was still confused. “How do we do that?”

Johnny scooted closer next to him, a wave of seriousness clouding his eyes as he looked at Steve. Steve never saw Johnny look this… serious. It was freaky and almost gave him the creeps.

“Steve, you gotta promise me, man, promise you’ll stop being so mad all the time. Like, start being nice to the socs?”

Steve made a face. “What?”

Johnny’s face didn’t change. “I’m tired of this war, man. This greaser and soc thing. It’s fuckin’ stupid man.”

“They’re the ones always startin’ shit with us!”

“Not all of them are bad, Steve.” Johnny retorted. “Not all of them. ‘Sides, why should anyone give a crap, y’know? About how much money you got? Who even started this whole thing? It’s pointless, man. It’s pointless.

Steve remained silent, but he agreed.

Johnny went on. “And.. and stop being so hard on Pony, y’know? He’s just a kid. And what about this thing with Soda? Are you just not gonna tell him and let him get married off to Sandy?”

“Wait a damn minute, what about you?”

“I’ll tell Dally.”

“Johnny—“

“I don’t care, man!” Johnny barked, which made Steve shut up real quick. “I don’t give a damn anymore, I’ll tell him. You’ll tell Soda. We’ll both tell ‘em. I’m tired of bein’ scared all the time of shit, man.”

Steve grabbed Johnny by the shoulders. “Calm down, Johnnycake.”

Johnny didn’t listen. “And you know what? Steve, promise me… just promise me you’ll move out the minute you’re eighteen.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “What?”

“Yeah.” Johnny nodded gradually excitedly. “Yeah. Yeah. We’ll both do it. Or when you turn eighteen I can come live with you.”

“Johnny, I don’t know if—“

_“Just promise me!”_

Steve flinched at that. He’s never heard Johnny that loud.

“Just promise me we’ll both move out and this will all be done. No more hittin’, no more sittin’ out here, no more of bein’ all mad and junk. We get out and start our own journey, away from them, away from all of this, and start our own lives.”

Steve just stared at the younger male. Johnny was breathing heavy, eyes dark, eyebrows furrowed, and looked… scary. For the first time ever, Johnny Cade was scary. Steve felt damn near terrified. He never saw such a raw passion come from Johnny like this. Johnny, the boy who’s always been the “sweet one”. Johnny, the boy who’s always been the “quiet.” Johnny, the boy who’s been beaten to hell and back by his parents and peers. This was not the Johnny that Steve knew. This was a different Johnny, one who was serious about what we wanted and made it clear that he’s determined to get whatever he wanted at whatever cost. Looking into those eyes, Steve knew exactly what needed to be done.

“I promise.”

He held out his pinky. Johnny stared at it then back at Steve and grin broke out on his face as he hooked his own pinky around Steve’s.

“Are you serious, Steve? Are you dead set serious? Cause I swear, man—“

“Johnny, I’d never lie to you.” Steve said. He meant it too.

All of a sudden, Steve feels a warm embrace around his waist. Johnny was hugging him. Steve looked down at Johnny’s face and it seemed different. It looked so foreign, as if Johnny just became an entirely different human being. That’s when Steve realizes Johnny looked peaceful. Of all those years, Johnny was finally at peace. Steve wrapped his arms around Johnny and immediately felt the same.

They laid down on the car, still in the same position. Steve looked up at the night sky as they sat in silence.

“Steve?” Johnny mumbled.

“Hm?”

“I love ya, man.”

Steve continued to stare at the stars, smiling.

“Love ya too, Johnnycake.”

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


Steve’s seventeen and forgets where he’s going.

He forgot. He truly does forget until it’s too late and he’s there.

Nothing. No fire, no cancer stick, no jean jacket, no tan skin, no greasy black hair, no nothing.

He’s not there. He’s not there sitting on that rusted hood, smoking a weed and staring into the sky or in the blaze. He’s not there anymore.

Johnny’s gone.

Shit, his eyes are starting to sting. Must be that September wind.

Dally’s gone too, but in a twisted way Steve kinda knew Dally would go that way. Dal was angry, violent, and cold. He was a ticking time bomb that would either explode or implode, but it didn’t matter. Either way, the result would be the same. But not Johnny. This wasn’t supposed to happen to Johnny. Johnny was a good kid. He was a nice kid who didn’t hurt others for fun or break the law almost daily. He wasn’t a delinquent, hell not like Steve or the rest of the gang. Steve was seventeen, Soda was getting ready to turn seventeen, but not Johnny. Johnny won’t be able to experience that.

_Fuck, don’t do it. Don’t do it. You didn’t do it when it happened. You didn’t do it at the funeral._

Steve starts tracing his finger along the car, walking slowly to the point that he sulked over to Johnny’s old spot. Weird, he can still smell Johnny. _That’s_ how long they used this spot.

Johnny wouldn’t be able to turn seventeen. Shit, he won’t be able to do a lot of stuff. He won’t get his first job, he won’t get his driver’s license and be able to taste the freedom of having your own ride.

_Goddammit…_

He won’t be able to finally move out of his folks’ place, or live to see the greasers and socs finally getting along good, or tell Dally about how he feels. Johnny won’t be able to fulfill the promises he made. He won’t be able to do shit.

Fuck it, Steve couldn’t hold it in any longer. Dropping to his knees, he began bawling his eyes, burying his face into his hands in embarrassment even though nobody was around. Glory, he wishes Soda was here. Soda was always good at calming him down. Johnny was too.

No matter how loud Steve sobbed or how hard he slammed his fist into the side door, Johnny wasn’t coming back. Johnny was too good for this world and that’s what kills Steve. No matter how many times that kid got beat up, he still never got angry at the world. Not like what Dally did. Not like what _Steve_ did.

That’s when Steve realizes exactly what he needs to do. What he _has_ to do.

“I’ll make it up to you, Johnny.” He said in between sobs. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


A couple of weeks passed.

Christ, Steve has never gone through a slower two weeks before. It was driving him nuts. Everyone was still in low spirits. Soda wasn’t smiling that much, Two-Bit’s jokes were still lame, but now they were just forced, Pony was quieter now (which Steve would consider a blessing in any other circumstance, but not here), and Darry seemed even more rigid and scary than he was nowadays.

The whole town was in low spirits, in fact. But only because they were mourning their precious socialite Robert Sheldon, not the guys who, y’know, saved a bunch of kids from burning to death.

Whatever, Steve’s already had his moment. What’s done is done, so now he’ll go back to his shift at the DX. It was Saturday, but he was alone because it was Soda’s day off. Probably explains why barely any girls were there. It was a slow day anyways, so Steve figures he can just play the radio, read a magazine, and relax.

That is until the door opens.

One good look at who it is and Steve already feels a scowl twist his face. It’s a guy — looks around Steve’s age, short dirty-blond hair, tall, gray eyes, khakis, tucked in polo shirt, and leather brown shoes. That’s a damn Soc.

Before Steve can mutter out something nasty, the Soc walks to the counter.

“Hey, can I get some help with my car? I got back from visiting my grandma and it broke down.”

“We’re closed. Get lost.”

The Soc looks at the schedule on the counter. “No, you aren’t. It says open on Saturdays from 10:00 AM to 8:00 PM. It’s 2:31.”

“Okay, we’re busy.”

The Soc looks around. “I’m the only one here. Also, I can see the garage from here, there’s nothing there.”

Steve internally groaned and rolled his eyes. “Fine, where is it?”

“It’s outside the station, can you help me pushl it in the garage?”

“How did you get it here?”

“... By pushing it?”

“Then you can still do just a bit more.” Steve sneered.

When the Soc pushes the car in the garage for a second Steve gets the idea of fucking it up on purpose, but he decides against it. A lot of socs got their car fixed here and his boss would definitely fire his ass if he pulled a stunt like that, so he just mutters a few curses under his breath and gets to work.

After what seems like an eternity, the Soc speaks up. “Hey, are you Sodapop Curtis?”

Steve didn’t look up. “Did you read the name tag? Clearly I’m not.”

“Good, cause my girl and her friends are always comin’ here falling heads over heels for him. Was hoping I didn’t have to straighten anything out.”

Steve snorted. “That’s Soda. Gettin’ all the girls.” His tone is more bitter than he intended.

“Oh.” The Soc says. “This place does seem pretty good. My girl said it was better than the mechanics on the other side of town.”

“Okay.” Steve replied simply.

It’s quiet until the Soc speaks again. “You’re pretty good.”

“Thanks.” Steve muttered.

“No, really, like you’re real good at this type of stuff. My usual mechanic, Tom, always takes like forever to get stuff this fixed. I swear with the guy it’s li—“

“Will you shut the fuck up?” Steve snapped, glaring at the Soc as hard as he could. “I like to work in silence.”

The Soc’s face got red. “Geez, sorry.” He muttered before walking out the garage.

When Steve gets done, he’s more than excited to finally get the guy out of his station. But when he walks up to the counter, he takes a look at him and remembers something. He remembers what Johnny told him about not all Socs being bad, then Steve’s mind goes to the way he yelled at the guy and how embarrassed.

Crap. Now he feels like shit.

“Hey, kid.” Steve calls out. “I’m done.”

“Oh, uh, okay. Thank you.” The Soc says sheepishly before getting up. Right before he walks to the back, Steve stops him.

“Hey, wait. I’m sorry about how I treated ya.”

“No, I get it. I’m on the wrong side of town.”

“Nah, nah. I shouldn’t’ve yelled at ya like that. It was shitty.”

“Thanks.” The Soc smiled.

Steve returned that smile. “Of course.” He looked to the back then looked at him. “So, a blue ‘64 convertible huh?”

“Yeah, I got it for Christmas.”

“Nice, I had saved up to buy my own.”

“Oh, that was yours! It looked cool, man.”

“Thanks.” Steve grinned then extended his hand out. “The name’s Steve. You?”

The Soc grabbed his hand, shaking it.

“The name’s Clay.”

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


“Soda! Where the hell are you?” Steve yelled, barging into the Curtis house.

Upon no immediate response, he looks around and sees the living room is empty besides Ponyboy reading a book on the couch. The blonde in his hair didn’t grow out yet, but Steve thought he looked kinda tuff with it. Hell, he looked even more like Soda.

“Kid, where’s Soda?”

Pony didn’t look up from his book. “I thought you knew. He was goin’ on a date with that girl from the bowling alley.”

“Dammit.” Steve cursed, hitting the doorway frame. He should’ve known. Soda’s been going from girl to girl almost daily ever since Sandy up and left for Florida.

Ponyboy finally looked up from his book. “What were y’all doin’?”

“We were gonna go see The Outrage.”

Pony’s face lit up. “That Paul Newman movie?”

“Yeah.”

“I always wanted to see it but my parents never let me go. I didn’t know they were showing it again.”

“They are! That’s why I got tickets for me and _Soda_.” Steve said.

Immediately Pony’s expression fell. “Oh. Yeah.” He said before burying his nose back in his book.

Steve almost feels foreign when a wave of sympathy crashes over him. Shit.

“Hey, uh, Ponyboy.”

“Hm?”

“You know, Soda’s always tellin’ me you really like those Paul Newman pictures and the ticket ain’t got a name on it so, uh, if you wanna come—“

Pony slammed his book on the floor. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Steve shuffled awkwardly when Ponybody didn’t respond and just stared at him. Glory, this kid makes being nice difficult.

“Is this some sort of a joke? Cause Steve I’m not in the mood for—“

“Blood of Jesus Christ, kid, it ain’t a joke. Now if you don’t get your ass in my car in the next five seconds I’m leavin’ you.”

Pony jumps up and as if on cue, Darry walks in.

“Darry!” Pony exclaimed. “I’m goin’ to the movie with Steve, if that’s alright.”

Darry looked as if he grew another head. He looked at Pony, then Steve, then back at Pony. “Uh, yeah, okay. Be safe.”

Steve watched as Ponyboy brushed past him and jogged out to his car. Darry walked up to him.

“I thought Soda was on a date.”

“He is.”

Darry still looked confused. “So, you’re going to the movie with Pony?”

“Yeah.”

“Alone?”

“Yes, Superman. Christ, am I being interviewed?” Steve said, holding up his hands in defense. “The kid’s had a rough time lately, he needs something to lighten up. Besides, I ain’t got nothin’ better to do.”

Darry stares at him for a second, then a wide smile spreads across his face. “Have him home by 8.”

“He’s my best friend’s kid brother, not my date.”

Darry grins, patting him on the back. “You two have fun.”

Steve did end up having fun that day.

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


“Happy birthday, Soda!”

Darry brought out the cake — chocolate — of course. It had _“Happy Birthday, Sodapop!”_ written at the top of it in white icing and a bunch of candles topping it off. Seventeen to be exact.

Everyone’s around the Curtis kitchen table watching as Soda ogles the cake in front of him.

“Make a wish, brother.” Darry says.

Soda looks up for thinking, twisting his face around as he ponders. Steve wants to laugh, knowing Sodapop, his mind was already made up.

“I got it.” Soda exclaims then blows out all of the candles.

The five of them clap and cheer, patting Soda on the back and already digging into cake.

Two-Bit cuts his slice then looks at Soda. “Colaman, you’re seventeen. How does it feel to be almost legal?”

“You’re not tryin’ to fuck him are ya, Two-Bit?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Hey, you know I like ‘em blonde.” Two-Bit wiggles his eyebrows, nudging Steve, prompting a smack upside the head from Soda.

“You’re sick, Keith Mathews!”

Two-Bit grins one last time before joining Darry on the couch. Steve is next to Pony who’s already devouring a second piece of cake. Glory, he’s starting to think he’s the clean one in this group.

It’s a nice little celebration. Just the five of them in the Curtis house. They all needed this after the last few weeks of drama and depression. It was just nice to have one night of laughing, joking, and cake of course. Steve still has one thing he needs to do before his best friend’s birthday ends.

Him and Two-Bit decided to sleep over that night, but Steve laid on the couch, shaking a little bit. Glory, he was nervous as hell. Real nervous. He doesn’t think he’s been this nervous since… ever. But it’s gotta be done. Either now or never.

Carefully, he slowly slipped his legs out from under Two-Bit’s head, making sure not to bang his skull and wake the older man up (no matter how much Steve wanted to.) He got up and tip-toed to Soda and Pony’s room, opened the door, walked over to Soda’s side and nudged his shoulder.

“Soda. Wake up.”

Soda groaned, rubbing his groggy eyes. “Steve? What time is it?”

“Gettin’ close to midnight.” Steve whispered. “Get up, I need to show you somethin’.”

Soda sighed, but still got up carefully to not wake up Pony. who was passed out clean after 10 sharp.

“You better be glad you’re my best friend or I’d be pissed with ya.”

“Yeah, whatever, come on.”

They walk out to the porch, Soda closes the door softly and turns to Steve with an exasperated look.

“Steve, I love ya, but I kinda wanna know why I’m standin’ in the cold in my underwear.”

“I wanted to give you somethin’.”

“Like a present? You already gave me one. I appreciate the football.” Soda said. He smiled and held his hands out. “But who I am to decline somethin’ my best friend bought. Give me!”

Steve chuckled. Glory, was Soda too damn cute. He reached into his pockets and pulled out a silver, heart-shaped locket. “Here.” he gave it to Soda.

Soda grabbed it, eyes and mouth wide open as he stared all over it.

Steve rubbed his neck. “It’s kinda girly, but—“

“It’s perfect.”

Steve felt his face go red. Thank God it was cold and he could blame it on that. “Open it.”

Soda looked at him then opened the locket, scanning the content of its inside. There was a picture in there.

“This…” Soda breathed. “This is from when we were lil’ kids.”

“Yup. The very first year we met.”

Steve could feel himself getting more sheepish and nervous the more Soda kept looking over the locket. It made him feel good in a way, to see Soda so invested in it.

“Stevie, I don’t mean to be rude, but where did ya get the money for this?”

“My pal Clay helped me out a bit.” Steve said.

“Wow. Steve, I don’t know what to say.” Soda took the picture out, examining it then looked at the back. There was writing on it. “To the bestest friend a guy could ever have.” Soda read out aloud. “I love you to the moon and back and always will. As a best friend and… hopefully more?”

Steve internally cringed. Soda looked up at him, green eyes shining in the moonlight so clearly.

“Steve… are you… are you tryna say you wanna be my—“

“Yeah.” Steve lowered his head, looking at the ground. “Yeah, that’s what I’m tryna say.”

Steve looks back up to make eye contact, but he’s already regretting the decision. He doesn’t know what to expect, anything could happen. This was either gonna make him feel like king of the world or feel like the scum of the Earth. No inbetween.

They keep staring at each other for what feels like eternity until Soda lunges towards him. Steve flinches, expecting fully to get his jaw socked. He stumbles, but once he regains his balance he realizes there’s no pain. Instead there’s arms slung around his shoulder and waist.

“Steven Lucas Randle, you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ for this.”

Before Steve can hug back Soda lets go and looks at him with the biggest, brightest smile Steve’s ever seen.

“You ain’t mad at me?”

“Hell no!”

“What about Sandy and all them other girls?”

“I liked Sandy. I liked her a lot, but she ain’t you, Steve. She just ain’t you. I’m kinda glad she left cause I was gonna marry her, y’know, live a normal life.”

Steve snorted. “Yeah. That’s how I thought it would go with me and Evie.”

Soda hugs him again. It’s even tighter now, but Steve’s prepared and hugs him back.

“Happy birthday, Soda. Happy birthday.”

  
  
  


❃

  
  
  


Steve’s eighteen and finally knows where he’s going.

  
  


“That’s all the boxes!” Clay yells out.

Steve punches him in the arm. “Clay, I’m right here for Christ sakes, you ain’t got to yell.”

Clay grinned. “I know, but it’s fun.”

Steve can’t help but return the grin. Clay may be a Soc but he has the temperance and attitude of a greaser. Steve patted him on the back. “Thanks for helping me out, buddy.”

“Anytime, Steve-O.”

“Hey, khaki pants!” It’s Two-Bit’s voice coming from behind them. “Help me out with this would you?” He says, carrying a box labeled “toy cars.”

Clay looks like he’s about to explode of laughter. “Toy cars, Steve?”

“Shut up. I don’t make fun of your hobbies.”

Two-Bit chimed in. “That’s my job.”

Clay nudged him. “You’re nineteen and still watch cartoons, who are you to judge?”

Steve crossed his arms, laughing as he watched the two argue as they walk out of the house. Suddenly, he feels an arm snake around his neck. He already knows who it is.

“Soda, I told ya to stop sneaking up on me like that.”

Soda grinned. “Sorry, Stevie. Force of habit. How ya feelin’?”

“Crazy.” Steve said. “You sure it’s okay I live with your guys?”

“Of freakin’ course! You’re family, you’ve been it for a long time, baby.” He says. Before he can close the gap in between them, Pony walks in.

“Gross, you two need to get a room.”

Soda flicks Pony. “Don’t worry, we’re gettin’ one.”

Now Darry’s in the room. “Like hell you are. Steve is taking your old room. You’re still sleepin’ with Pony, he still gets nightmares.”

Pony audibly groaned. “Darry, I ain’t a little kid anymore. I can handle my nightmares, you ain’t gotta worry about me.”

Darry looks over from him to Steve and Soda, who seems too preoccupied with each other at the moment. “It ain’t you I’m worried about.” He clears his throat loudly, getting both boys’ attention.

“Sorry, Superman. Uh, so you really sure it’s okay that I’m staying with y’all?”

“Long as you help with bills.” Darry grinned. Steve didn’t find it funny. “Just kiddin’. I’ve known you my whole life, Steve. If I can deal with Dumb and Dumber than I can deal with you.”

“Thanks, Supe. But what about my old man?”

“You’re eighteen now, he can’t do anything. Besides,” Darry’s eyes went dark and his voice became more hushed. “He couldn’t do anything if he even tried.”

Steve felt a smile creep up. He’s grateful for Darry.

“Hey!” Clay yells out to them from the truck. Two-Bit has shotgun. “Y’all ready or what?”

“In a minute!” Steve yells back. Pony and Darry are already heading out, so Steve tells Soda to do the same.

“Go on, I’ll be there in a minute.”

Soda shoots him a small smile and a shake on the shoulder. “Alright. I’m proud of ya, Steve. I really am.”

He walks out and closes the door. Now Steve’s alone in his _former_ house.

It’s almost overwhelming, kind of. To be in a place for your whole life and suddenly leave. Steve’s been waiting for this day for a long time now. All those years of waiting and waiting and it was finally over. This was it. He kinda hates how his dad isn’t here right now. This could be a moment of closure or whatever, but Steve knows it would’ve just ended shitty and nothing of value would’ve been said. The man didn’t care for eighteen years, why would he care now? Maybe it was just best this way.

He goes to the kitchen and pulls out a sticky note from the cabinet and pen from a mug and writes down _“Bye, Dad.”_ and sticks it on the fridge. Steve isn’t cruel enough to just leave without saying bye at least.

Steve walked back to the living room and took one final look at it. He’d never see this place again. Ever. He walks out and closes the door, making sure to lock it, and that was it. He was done. He officially moved out.

He looked at the truck where the guys were all waiting and talking and a wave of emotions hit him all at once. His friends, his soc friend, his boyfriend, all laughing and having a good time. It’s like the fire never happened or nothing actually changed, but it did.

Steve took one final look at his old home then turned out. He never looked back after that. He was finally on his own way.

He did make a promise after all.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> well. finally done with that. if you stuck around long enough i appreciate that because god that was so much. thanks for reading! xoxo (i’m on tumblr @randlewrld)


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